


The Hoodie

by Nevcolleil



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Jack lends Mac a hoodie. Later he discovers Mac not quite ready to give it back.





	The Hoodie

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick one-shot written in response to a thing KatieComma reposted on Tumblr a while back: something like _Person A borrows Person B their hoodie... Person B doesn't want to give it back._ Jack is my Person A :p

Jack doesn’t think much of it. Mac’s _mostly_ dry by the time they’re dismissed, but he still looks a little bit like someone’s house cat got away mid-bath. It’s adorable, and Jack has to tease Mac extra hard to cover up the way he’s no doubt _looking_ at Mac like it’s adorable. More importantly, Mac is shivering slightly, cold, as they climb into Jack’s car, so Jack reaches into his backseat at a red light and grabs the hoodie he wore when Riley made him go jogging with her that morning, then he tosses it into Mac’s lap.

“What’s this?” Mac frowns (adorably) and asks.

“It’s a hoodie, genius,” Jack teases. And continues, before Mac can do more to protest than roll his pretty eyes. “And it’s me saving your stubborn butt for the second time in twenty-four hours... This time from a nasty case of pneumonia. Put that on.”

Jack doesn’t think much of how little fight Mac puts up after that - the kid’s wiped out, that was obvious when he passed up the chance to change back at HQ.

But then Jack isn’t much looking at Mac when Mac crawls out of Jack’s car, with a lazy wave in response to Jack’s promise to drive back over and pick Mac up when they’re due back at Phoenix.

It’s silly - and Jack knows it’s silly. There’s nothing about seeing Mac wrapped in a piece of Jack’s clothing that Jack ought to have to avoid seeing to not get _seen_. It’s just a hoodie. It hasn’t been tailored to any one body type, so it can’t look that different hanging off of Mac’s broad, narrow shoulders than it does when Jack wears it, with his stockier, more compact shape. And height-wise Mac and Jack are pretty much even, with similar torso lengths - it’s not like Jack’s sleeves will hang off Mac’s arms or pool at his wrists (much). Or do anything to highlight the breadth of Mac’s strong, steady hands that Mac’s own clothes don’t already do just fine...

Still.

Jack doesn’t dare look at Mac again until he’s had time to go home, get a little rest and get his head back together. Until Mac’s had time to shower and sleep and change back into Mac clothes - and out of Jack’s, all faded and worn from Jack’s use and probably smelling like him too. (Until Mac’s washed away any hint of that smell that might have transferred onto his own skin. No amount of napping could steel Jack so that _smelling_ himself on Mac wouldn’t cause him to say or do something that Mac would regret.)

Only...

When Jack gets to Mac’s place, he has to let himself in. And when he finally finds Mac, Mac’s still asleep - on his couch where he must have curled up to sleep as soon as he walked through the door; no shower, no change of clothes before it was lights out.

And Mac is still wearing that _damned_ hoodie. He’s got the hood pulled over his head and everything, just a few strands of blonde hair visible around his face inside the hood. He’s got his long, clever fingers curled around the ends of the sleeves of the hoodie, and the fabric is strained across his wide shoulders as a result.

Jack’s knees go shaky, and he collapases into a perch on the edge of the coffee table before he even has the chance to _choose_ to be creepy and sit to watch Mac sleep.

Not that he can bring himself to feel creepy about it for long. Because then, as Jack watches, Mac shifts in his sleep. Not as if he’s stirring - the way people do sometimes, deep in sleep, as they drift even deeper. Mac’s body curls on top of his sofa like, in his dream, he’s snuggling up against something...

Or someone.

And- And this is what really has Jack feeling like his heart might just collapse the same way his knees had... And then Mac turns his face into the arm he has folded up beneath his head like a pillow. 

And he very obviously breathes in the scent of Jack’s sleeve.

“Mac...”

Jack can’t watch him for one moment more. Creepy or _not_ , Jack can’t watch and torment himself with what he can’t have... tease himself with delusions that Mac might possibly- That Mac could ever... 

“Hey? Mac?” Jack repeats, though as softly as the first time, the letdown feeling that logic leaves him with stealing his breath. 

Mac could be dreaming about anything. Or _anyone_. Jack’s hoodie probably has nothing to do with it. In his dream, Mac could just as soon be sniffing Nikki’s hair... Or anyone else’s for that matter.

Except it isn’t Nikki or anybody else that Mac calls out for in his sleep when Jack tries again to wake him. It’s-

“Jack?” Mac says - slurs, really - without opening his eyes.

And Jack’s tendency to tease and torment himself has nothing to do with it - Jack’s sitting too close not to hear Mac loud and clear when his consecutive mumbles shape into three distinct words: “-dreaming of you.”

The air freezes in Jack’s lungs. His pulse practically rockets away from him, and his tongue goes with it.

“Now, why would you be dreaming of me?” he asks Mac, and hopes that Mac can forgive him for pursuing the answer, when technically Mac can’t be held responsible for giving Jack an opening to pursue it.

Mac makes a sound almost like a hum and responds in a way that makes Jack more hopeful still. “Mmmm... you know why.” His voice is sleep- _and_ sex-heavy, and it just about knocks Jack off of that coffee table with a punch to the gut.

“Fuck...” slips out of Jack’s mouth - presumably in a voice less sexy, and more astonished, than dream!him has been using in Mac’s head.

Mac’s body stills and his breathing starts to change.

Then it changes again as Mac’s eyes start to flutter open.

His sleep-clouded eyes find Jack, focus, and widen. “J- Jack, what. What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was gonna wake you up and say it’s time to get back to work... Now I’m kinda sorry I did. Looked like you were having a damned good dream there, Mac.”

It’s more playful than Jack actually feels at the moment. In actuality, Jack can’t remember ever feeling more _serious_ in his life. Serious about what it means if he’s gotten this all right. The snuggling... the sleepy-sex-voice. That deer-in-the-headlights look that’s in Mac’s eyes right now-

But teasing, kidding, joking around... those are Jack’s default settings when he’s nervous. His go-to camo. 

It takes some effort to set them aside when something more than surprise and wariness flickers across Mac’s face - something more wounded and a lot more afraid.

And hungry. Hungry in a way that Jack’s been hungry for a long time. Starving, in fact. (It sounds so much less pathetic, in Jack’s head, to call the root of it _hunger_ instead of longing...)

“Jack...”

Jack makes Mac say no more than that with those raw emotions twisting around behind the strained shape of his handsome face. 

“Looked like you were having exactly the kind of dream I’ve been having myself more and more these days,” Jack says, looking Mac right in the eye now. 

Mac studies him for a moment. For just a moment.

“I don’t know that it was _exactly_ the kind of dream you’d be having,” Mac says carefully. 

Jack braves one more move. With his eyes holding Mac’s, he reaches forward one hand and runs his fingers up under the cuff of one of the hoodie’s sleeves, not-so-subtly brushing the back of Mac’s hand in a tender caress.

“Oh... I’m pretty sure it was,” Jack says. “If it had anything to do with me being so head over heels crazy for you, I-”

That’s as far as Mac makes Jack get - then he’s rising up, leaning in, and they’re kissing. And it’s better than anything Jack’s ever dreamed - or day-dreamed, or imagined.

“I need to get you wet more often,” Jack remarks much later. He doesn’t mean it the way Mac takes it, although - with Mac hard and leaking in his hands - Jack can see where the misunderstanding comes from.

“Is that supposed to be some sort of dirty talk?” Mac asks, sounding somewhat confused, but also pleasantly breathless.

Jack laughs out loud.


End file.
